Heavenly Father, behind all changes dost Thou lurk in eternal constancy. Never lingering, each good of life gives place to the better Thou hast in store, and in glory and gladness resigns to that which comes after. From the good that is, may we learn to pass cheerfully to the better that is to be,--from the cool morning and sunny noon to the purple gloaming and the star-lit night, from the tender spring and glowing summer to the golden autumn and snow-pure winter, from the sweet life that now is to that fulness of realization whose sweeter splendors eye hath not seen nor the heart of man conceived. We place our hands in Thine and would walk with Thee in holiest trust and serenest peace. Amen. THOMAS W. ILLMAN. September 2 _"I will be happy all the day Let come what may." 'Twas early morning when the word was said, And like a journey 'cross a weary plain There stretched the hours, but I was comforted As heart and voice sung o'er the sweet refrain, "I will be happy all the day Let come what may."_ _"I will make hope and only hope My horoscope." The sombre, brooding clouds of discontent Oppress one's spirit like a throbbing pain; One frets and moans in one's environment, But with a look ahead I sing again, "I will make hope and only hope My horoscope."_ FREDERICK A. BISBEE. Yea, Lord, we thank Thee that we may hope and be happy all the day for Omnipotence is our Father and our changeless Friend, and we have naught to fear. We are glad of life and thank Thee for all that makes it heroic or beautiful or sweet. We rejoice in our home, in our dear ones, and in the precious human loves that reflect the love divine. Pardon our sins, we pray Thee, and work out Thy purposes in us. May we work and hope on and be glad in Thee filling this day so full of useful employ that when the night shall come, we shall lie down to sleep upon Thy loving children like tired but happy children, and so find rest and refreshment for another day with men and Thee. Amen. CARL F. HENRY. September 3 _There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea._ WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. _O sweet September! thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool, fresh air, whence health and vigor spring And promise of exceeding joy hereafter._ GEORGE ARNOLD.